Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7] (39 page)

‘Serpentius!’

He had never heard Valerius’s voice so close to panic. One foot on either side of the shaft, he unhooked his belt and dropped one end down the shaft, half crouching and stretching his arm to get the maximum extension. His body rebelled against the unnatural position, pains shooting through his back from the site of his old wound.

‘Another couple of inches.’

‘I’m not made—’ Serpentius forced himself down another inch, his face rammed hard against the rock face.

‘I have it.’ Valerius roughly tied the belt round the cowhide stock on his right arm. ‘Pull me up.’

Serpentius took the strain and with all his wiry strength hauled Valerius up inch by straining inch. His back felt as if it was breaking and something popped in his shoulder, but still he pulled, eventually managing to get a second hand to the leather strap. The torch below flickered and died and they were left in total darkness.

‘I’m level with your feet,’ came the grating voice from the void below. ‘You’ll have to move up. I can support myself for a few moments on my elbows.’

Serpentius began to squirm upwards, grunting with the pain of his injured arm. He was just getting settled on a new perch when an enormous blast of air rushed past him. A scream of fear from below as Valerius lost his hold and a jerk on the end of the belt almost pulled the arm from its socket. He braced against the shaft wall, ignoring the pain as he hauled Valerius upwards into the shaft. The rush of air was constant now and accompanied by a massive roar that made communication impossible. Valerius slapped him on the leg and he found a new handhold that allowed him to pull himself up another two or three feet, but the shaft narrowed sharply, the sides already jamming into his shoulders. It was impossible to go any further.

Valerius slapped his foot again, but Serpentius ignored him. There was nothing else they could do, but pray. He tilted his head upwards and saw a single twinkling star in the blackness. Jupiter’s wrinkled scrotum, what wouldn’t he give to be up there now. From what he
knew of the process the miners would normally plug the air hole before they unleashed the flood. At least they could breathe. But would it have a positive or negative effect on their precarious grip on life in this claustrophobic rabbit hole of a sanctuary?

The airflow eased and he guessed the cloaks round Valerius’s legs had partially blocked the vent. But the pressure on his ears and from below had increased almost beyond endurance. At times it was so powerful it felt as if Valerius was pushing him upwards and the jagged rocks ground into his shoulders so he gasped with pain.

In the modestly wider gap below, Valerius cursed his friend for refusing to climb any higher. His sandals were two feet at most above the level of the bottom of the shaft, jammed into two tiny crevices. Would it be enough? Already the force of the air from below had almost dislodged him from his position and the roaring filled his mouth, ears and nose and compressed his chest so he found it difficult to breathe. And this was just the beginning. Another incredible noise pushed the roar into the background. A sort of gigantic hiss. It was the sound of the water careening by at enormous speed directly below him. In the time it took to register the fact an enormous crash recorded the moment the inundation reached the barrier of the mine wall. Water forced itself into every cavity of the mine. What had Nepos said about the air being his greatest weapon?
As more and more water is forced into the shaft the pressure builds and the air is compressed.
Valerius felt that compression now. In an instant the pressure increased a hundredfold so he thought his head was being crushed. He opened his mouth to scream and the force eased slightly so he kept doing it.

A moment later a jet of water forced its way past the bundled cloaks. His battered mind fought for some sort of hold on reality. Do something. He moved his feet to try to close the gaps, but it only made it worse. Water surged up to his knees, but the increase in the saturated cloaks’ weight made them settle and the flow was stemmed bar a few tiny jets. If it hadn’t been for the cloaks they could well have drowned, but within moments Valerius realized drowning might be a mercy. The entire shaft – the entire hill – began to shake like a rat in a terrier’s
mouth. Pieces of stone crumbled and broke away so he was showered from above and struggled to maintain the position of his feet on the two niches below.

A little voice in his head told him to let go, just drop into the crashing maelstrom and end it all. But Serpentius, whether by accident or design, kicked him in the head with an iron-shod sandal and suddenly his mind cleared.

Endure.

Survive.

The intensity of the shaking increased, accompanied by a new roar. Did he imagine it or was the pressure of the shaft walls on his shoulders increasing? The forces being imposed inside the hill were beginning to change its shape. He remembered the bulging slopes again and the moment the entire hill had erupted like a pullet’s egg hit by a sling shot.

He could almost hear the grinding as the stones moved together. So much power was being exerted that soon the shaft must collapse. He and Serpentius would be mere bloody smears and bone fragments lost in the fabric of the earth.

On and on it went until with a clap like thunder his blind world altered fundamentally. The stone support fell away beneath his feet and Valerius’s heart stopped as he fell with it. A savage jerk on his wrist halted his plunge. By some miracle Serpentius had retained his hold on the belt. He hung there like a half-drowned rat as water surged up the shaft unconstrained by the cloaks and for a moment he
was
drowning, his nose and mouth filled and struggling for breath. But with a second, much louder thunderous roar the water dropped away as fast as it had risen and his legs were dangling in clear air. Below him the torrent continued to rush by for another few moments before he heard it fade away. They waited in the disbelieving silence until their battered minds convinced them they had truly survived.

‘You can drop me now,’ Valerius croaked to Serpentius.

A moment later his heart was in his mouth as he plunged to land with a splash in the shallow stream below. As Serpentius climbed down
after him, Valerius untied the thin strip of leather that had undoubtedly saved his life. They walked slowly in the direction the water was flowing. Fifty paces ahead where there had been a solid wall of rock they could see the far side of a broad valley bathed in soft moonlight and the blur of distant hills. A boulder the height of a tall man and broad as a two-wheeled cart lay where it had been thrown against one wall. Valerius was certain it hadn’t been there earlier and marvelled again at the immense power of
ruina montium
. Of Hostilius Nepos there was no sign. He might never have existed.

‘Why are we still alive?’ Serpentius whispered in awe as they looked down upon the swath of destruction below the opening. The hill had been eviscerated by the hydraulic mining process and now its entrails were scattered in a mile-long trail of mud and boulders that glittered silver and black beneath the moon. By a freak of nature two or three areas of hill survived to stand out as jagged mounds against the night sky behind them.

‘I don’t know.’ Valerius’s voice echoed the Spaniard’s wonder. ‘Maybe the air shaft was designed to be another fracture point. Because we kept the water out, that section of hill survived. Maybe Fortuna was watching over us.’

‘Then let’s hope she stays with us for a while longer.’ Serpentius studied the drop for a few moments before coming to a decision. He levered himself over the ragged edge, grunted as his injured shoulder took his weight and lowered himself on to the mud slope.

He looked up. ‘We need to get out of here and back to Avala.’

He waited for Valerius to join him, ankle-deep in the mire. They started off down the incline, their sandalled feet making a loud sucking sound with every step. There were muttered low curses as they stumbled over hidden boulders. Serpentius picked one up. ‘If there was any justice one of these would be a great big lump of gold.’

‘If there was any justice we’d be dead.’

‘The important thing,’ Serpentius continued, ‘is that they
think
we’re dead. They must have had someone watching the entrance, so they know there’s no chance we could have survived this. I’d much prefer
it stayed that way. With Fortuna’s favour the horses will still be where we left them. If we can reach them before daylight I can get us back without meeting any hook-noses.’

‘What then?’

‘It depends whether Tito and Julia succeeded in persuading her father to change sides. If they did, we need to know what he knows. If not, and we both think that’s more likely, you should ride directly for Tarraco, and hand over what little evidence you have to Pliny. Convince him that he’s needed here. Melanius is the key. If you can persuade the governor his old friend should be arrested I don’t think any of the others will put up much of a fight.’

‘You’re forgetting about Harpocration and his hook-noses,’ Valerius reminded him. ‘If he’s taken he’ll end up hanging from a cross and his men will spend the rest of their lives down the mines. No, the Parthians will either fight or run.’

‘I hope they run in our direction,’ Serpentius said. ‘I have debts to pay.’

‘We march on Tarraco in one week.’ In the shocked silence that followed, Marcus Atilius Melanius waited for the inevitable protests. Why should they look surprised? He’d been telling them for months this was the only way to save their skins. Had they really been so deluded as to think it would never happen?

‘But you said Verrens and this other man …’

‘They call him Nathair, dear Severus,’ Melanius said patiently. ‘A Zoelan troublemaker who previously worked with Petronius.’

‘You said they were dead.’

‘Obliterated,’ the leader confirmed. ‘All our searchers found were a few scraps of tattered flesh and splintered bone.’

‘I’d still have preferred to see their heads.’ A new voice, harsh and heavily accented.

‘That is because you are still at heart a barbarian, prefect.’ Melanius graced Claudius Harpocration with a smile that took the edge off his words. ‘You have seen
ruina montium
. Can you imagine what it must have been like in that mine? I cannot think of a worse or more terrifying death than being torn apart in the bowels of the earth. Quite fitting, I think, and they will certainly never trouble us again.’

‘But that is my point,’ Severus persisted. ‘With Verrens, this Nathair and the traitor Nepos disposed of we have nothing to fear.’

Melanius sighed. For a man with such a high opinion of himself Asturica’s
duovir
could be such a fool. It was like herding a flock of sheep with the wolves howling in the distance. Yet he had to admit that, if they were nervous, it was with some justification. Because this was truly the point of no return. He must be patient.

‘We are safe,’ he agreed, ‘for now. But all we are doing is delaying the inevitable.’ A stillness fell over the room and he met the gaze of each man in turn. ‘What has been done cannot be undone. We are all agreed upon that?’ He waited until each man nodded and he saw resistance replaced by equal measures of resignation and resolution. ‘And we are all aware of the repercussions if our … private arrangements … are discovered. The very painful repercussions, both for ourselves and for our families. Let me be entirely frank with you, gentlemen; if we do not act now – agree this very day – then we would be as well going home, taking to our beds and cutting our wrists.’

‘Aren’t you being overdramatic, Melanius?’ Ferox, the other dissenter, flushed with his success at the mine. ‘Without Nepos and the information he stole they have nothing. Much can be done in the matter of covering up any evidence.’

‘Are we so certain Nepos was the only informant?’ Melanius demanded. ‘And we have no idea if anything was taken from Fronton’s villa before the fire. His daughter is still missing, I understand. What else is still missing? We all know he was our greatest weakness. A man prone to keeping records. I should have dealt with him earlier. But that is not the point. We have one chance and one chance only. If we do not take it we do not deserve to survive. I have had dispatches from Rome suggesting that Vespasian may be preparing to send a full legion to Hispania Tarraconensis to replace or reinforce the five cohorts of the Sixth stationed at Legio.’ An indrawn breath from Ferox, and Melanius saw Severus’s fists clench convulsively. They’d heard the rumours, but this was close to confirmation, and they knew what it meant. Melanius used the opportunity to reinforce his point. ‘In another month it will be
too late. If we do not march now the campaigning season will be over by the time we reach Tarraco. Our wagons will be up to their axles in mud and Pliny will have time to close the gates on us. If we act swiftly, we can take him by surprise. The Sixth are ready, Calpurnius?’ He already knew the answer, but it did no harm to allow the Peacock to have his say. Piso had been quivering like a hound who’d sighted a deer since the meeting had started.

‘Proculus is being his usual obstructive self,’ the young tribune complained. ‘But he knows he either does as we say or falls on his sword. He is not of a sacrificial inclination. The tribunes are with me, the palms of the centurions well filled with gold and their heads with promises of advancement. The soldiers will do as they are ordered. They think they are reacting to an insurrection in Tarraco and are looking forward to some action against lightly armed rebels.’

‘Good,’ Melanius congratulated him. ‘And of course,’ he bowed to Harpocration, ‘we can depend on our faithful auxiliaries of the First Parthorum.’

‘They will follow me to Hades,’ the bearded prefect assured him.

‘But we are so few,’ Severus stuttered.

‘Enough and more to take the city,’ Melanius assured him. ‘But you are right: if we are to hold it we will need more soldiers. Calpurnius, perhaps you would like to tell us about your
successful
visit to our friends in Germania?’

‘The men of the Tenth have not been paid for two months.’ Piso’s eyes shone with boyish enthusiasm. ‘They feel no loyalty to Vespasian, are sick of the damp and chill winds of the Rhenus frontier and wish to return to Hispania. My cousin has been working on our behalf and I have an assurance from their senior officers that they will join up with us outside Tarraco at the end of July. It will take them a week longer to make the journey so they may already have started their march. The other legions on the Rhenus are still furious at Vespasian for the way he sacrificed them to the Batavians during the civil war and for cashiering their comrades in the First Germanica and Fourth Macedonica when Civilis was defeated.’